The Journal of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes
by web of light
Summary: Tony Stark goes on an internal journey of self-discovery while reading Bucky's journals. Bucky in this story is based on Sebastian Stan's interpretation of the character, using his interviews as inspiration. Tony Stark is the same complicated Tony we know and love. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

His physical wounds were healing but the interior hurts were still raw. Tony stared at the glass of whiskey in front of him, daring himself to pick it up. He didn't know why he was spending so much time here at the compound. He should go back to California. Maybe look in on the company. Maybe this time Pepper-

 _Pepper. No, can't go there. Not yet. Not now._

Sometimes Vision floated in and out, not saying much, but when he did, he asked Tony deep questions that had no answer. Fueled by recent events, Vision's attention turned inward, no doubt experiencing certain emotions for the first time. Tony wished he could help but there was no handbook for this.

 _Damn it. Damn it, Clint! Why did you take Wanda away?_

The whiskey was sending out a clear invitation. Rhodey, who was always here and ready to listen, would give him all the time in the world, but he had enough going on in his life. No need to burden him anymore. One he went through the list of his estranged friends, concentrating on their flaws and poor judgment.

All I wanted was to do good, to make things right. To fix the messes we made.

One name was last on the list. I thought we were friends. Maybe not best friends, like me and Rhodey, but damn it, we stood together. How could you do that to me…? The hurt went deep. His fingers curled around the glass. One sip and he would forget, forget the image that had burned into his brain.

 _If I had known… if he had just given me time to think it through. Would that have helped?_

There was a bizarre comfort in knowing that much of the pain he had been carrying around all these years was somebody else's fault. For once, something happened that he had no control over, but there was still something missing. He needed to know more but was afraid to dig, afraid of what other secrets might breakthrough but still, he wanted, no he needed more.

Zemo was in custody, awaiting his initial hearing. Tony just wanted to observe. He didn't even have to be in the room, he could just listen in from a separate location but the Accords wouldn't let him unless they decided they needed his testimony and then there were safeguards and regulations in place. On paper, it was a good idea. You couldn't have someone with extraordinary abilities close to the accused. He or she could easily take over the room and exact justice any way they wanted. He could try to just push his way in, that was more his style but at the moment he didn't have the mental energy. He knew what was going on inside his brain.

He was grieving for his parents all over again. Back when it had happened, the suddenness of it was hard to accept but, he realized that accidents happen, even to men like Howard Stark. Tony could never shake the idea that if he and his dad had just had a little more time, just a few more years, they could have made peace, but he had accepted that it would never happen. Now it was not only fresh again, but it was also different. Before the wreck had been far away, out there. They told him his parents probably died instantly and now it was up close, no longer hidden by distance and time. Time with his father, time he might have had to set things right stolen from him. The rage started to build up inside him again but now there was no one to take it out on.

Was Zemo the only one to blame? Hadn't everyone allowed things to get out of control? Zemo was just more calculated in his approach. Tony and everyone else had allowed themselves to play right into his trap.

He couldn't think about that now. Tony did as he always did, shoved him away in a mental pocket for another time. He could only be angry at one person at a time.

He started to raise the glass when a movement to the side of the room distracted him. It was Rhodey. He shouldn't be out walking unsupervised but Tony stopped trying to talk him down. He was adapting to the exoskeleton but there was still a bit of gimpiness to his walk. He said nothing but stared at the glass in Tony's hand. Tony sat it down hard, causing the amber liquid to slosh about, waiting for his sermon.

"You know I'm here if you want to talk it out, Tony." His friend's quiet demeanor surprised him. Something was up.

"I know." It was then he noticed Rhodey was carrying something. A backpack. "What is this?"

"Got it from the authorities in Germany. They took it from Sargent Barnes." His friend laid his small burden down on the table in front of Tony.

Rhodey's insistence on using Barnes's military rank was a mental trigger but then Rhodey was military. "So what has that to do with me? Burn it."

"Can't. We might need it later. He was carrying around several notebooks, looks like he was keeping a journal. I skimmed through them and I got permission to bring them here. I thought you should see them before they lock them up.

"You think I should peruse the ramblings of a madman? The man who murdered my parents?" His hand went back to the glass.

"Tony, this is me." Rhodey hadn't mastered the art of sitting down gracefully so he leaned himself against the wall instead. "You know I would never suggest something like this unless I thought it important. I would never do anything …"

"I know you wouldn't." Tony cut him off. So this was what was up. He wanted nothing to do with that man, but he trusted Rhodey. He always had and always would. And maybe there would be answers. He needed answers. Why Steve… why? Finally, letting his name free in his mind broke something inside him. The letter kept the door open, but it wasn't enough.

Rhodey pulled himself upright and walked around to Tony and without saying a word removed the glass.

"Some of it's written in Russian so you'll have to use a translator. If you still want a drink afterward, I'll share one with you." His best friend walked out of the room, his steps slow and deliberate, leaving Tony to stare at the object on the table in front of him. He forced himself to open it and pull out four notebooks. Leafing through the pages of the one on top he noticed writing covered every inch of every page, some of it crammed in the margins. In some places, the handwriting was neat and clear, in other places scribbled as if the author was trying to get something out before he forgot it. Scattered here and there were unintelligible paragraphs in Russian. He returned to the first page, noting the large print, like that of a young child.

"You better be right about this, Rhodey," Tony muttered under his breath as he began to read.


	2. Chapter 2

Washington D.C.

Hydra has fallen.

Sergeant James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes, serial number 325570308. Born in New York City in 1917, grew up in Brooklyn with Steve Rogers.

I see my face on a dead man.

Is this the man I kept seeing when things went quiet after the missions were over and I was on my way home? Those memories were the bad dreams that always followed me, showing up when I least expected.

That's not me. I can't be that old and this young. It's impossible.

My Target should have left me there to die when the helicarrier went down but he pulled me free and spoke to me, saying he knew me and shouted out this name… and his words… it was familiar, but he was my mission. My enemy. I fought him because I knew this was a trick, but then for a moment, the man in my dreams became real.

Became me.

My Target fell into the river. I didn't know what this was, what was happening, but I had to rescue... this. I had to protect... this. Something made me go after him. I don't know why. I pulled him to the riverbank wanting to shake him, to ask 'Who are you? Who am I?' but it might be a deception. There is no truth except what my handlers shared with me and they told me nothing about him except not to wear my mask, to let him see me as I am. Why?

I'm with you to the end of the line. What does that mean? Why did everything instantly change, why did those faint images they told me to dismiss become so clear for that brief minute?

It's gone. The words vanish in my head but that should not have happened. It's never happened. No words, no barrier should have stopped my mission.

I leave my Target there, alive. I turn away, passing through the yet uncompromised escape routes. No one sees me. They never see me.

My safe house was empty.

He broke my good arm. It's happened before. I shot myself full of pain killers, special ones, meant just for me and did my best to reset it myself. It was hard, it was painful but necessary. I will heal as I always heal.

I broke open the safe, removing the money and charged into civilian clothes. I stored everything in the safe room behind the thick metal door and I waited. I don't know fear but I often battle with uncertainty. I have no orders so I must look after myself because I have no orders to proceed.

I watched the news. Everything is gone. The organization that I swore to serve, that I would give my life for destroyed. Pictures flash on the TV, he is dead, the man who gave me my last order, our agents scattered all because of HIM, my target who called me Bucky, but S.H.I.E.L.D. came down with us, their headquarters destroyed. All our secrets have been spilled to the outside world. I should be happy, we fought against them for so long but I feel empty. I am alone. The world we were trying to build will never happen because of my Target, Steve Rogers. The man I should not have saved. I saw his face in my dreams. He wasn't supposed to be real. He's not real. That was a dream. They will find me, and they will fix this. Then I will sleep and all this will stop.

The sleep. I liked the sleep. It stilled the voices, shut down the visions. Waking up is hard, but they always took care of me. Then I remember they are gone. It's all gone, now there is no deep sleep, no rest. My memories float around inside my head like clouds but sometimes parts come together and I see a whole picture. I don't always understand it but I see it. I have to write it down because tomorrow they might be gone.

I try to sleep but my thoughts are on a constant loop in my head. My present, the past that I remember, and then there is that dream world of madness where the images crowd in and won't shut up. I shoot myself up again with pain killers so I can sleep.

Steve Rogers, my Target will not get out of my head. After a few days, I wandered around the city. Listening to the tourists, I followed them into the museum where I saw him. The dead man with my face. My nightmare.

I'm with you till the end of the line.

I can't let these dreams, these false memories take over my life.


	3. Chapter 3

Avengers Compound

Tony threw the journal down on the table. Walking around the room he poured himself a cup of coffee. Barnes words were a stuttering mess, making him sound lost and almost childlike. There was nothing in there that raised sympathy so Tony did what he always did, put an imaginary steel fence around his feelings, wishing he could just walk away but he also knew that Rhodey would know if he hadn't done as he asked. Rhodey didn't ask for much, and he always knew.

Sitting back down he moved to the next page. Russian. Sighing, he pulled up a translator from his phone which appeared in the air above him. Moving his phone over the journal he sat back as it transposed the words and rearranged into English.

Siberia-home, the things that are real, and NOT a dream.

Hail Hydra. People cannot be trusted with their own freedom. To create order, we must first create chaos. Tear down the old world and build it back up again in our image. To do this, we must eliminate threats. That is why they created me.

I woke up in the Hydra facility with no memories, my mind blank. I was scared and angry, but their voices were calm. They took care of me; I was their agent, who had returned from a mission but an accident caused me to lose my memory. They found me and brought me home. I believed everything they told me.

From time to time I would get flashes of another life. When I spoke of it they put me in the memory suppressor. It hurt, I screamed, I dreaded it but they explained it was for the best. A child does not like taking medicine. Sometimes a cure is worse than the disease. These images I kept seeing were false memories, planted by the enemy to confuse me. As time went on, the flashbacks became less and less frequent, only returning when my time between mind wipes was prolonged. I wondered why these false memories insisted on staying in my brain, why they didn't fade… sometimes I would entertain them and see snippets of another life but it was never long enough to piece together anything that made sense. I saw myself, wearing a uniform, a young man that I now know was My Target. They stopped when I slept.

Now, after so long awake, without the cleansing mind wipes to give me relief, the flashes returned in spurts, sometimes clear and cold, sometimes faint. I wait for the pain to follow but then I remember; they are not here. There is nothing to stop the dreams. I want them to stop. I want to remain who I am but my Target's face keeps reappearing, calling me by a name I don't recognize and saying the words. The words my handlers spoke cleared my head and prepared me for my missions. The words my Target spoke broke my focus and stopped me. How could he do that? That should not have happened.

I lost my arm in the fall and they gave me a new one. It didn't hang lifelessly by my side. I could control it. They explained it, using terms like electrical neuron impulses and sensors on my brain. Cybernetics. It was strange at first; I had to learn how to use it but in time I forgot that it was artificial. It became a part of me.

That was me. That was real...

In my dreams, I am falling. I believed he would find me. My Target's face flashed before my eyes. Why was I waiting for him? They tried to wipe him away, but he always came back. The drugs they gave me made me weak. So weak. I sat alone in a room, for hours watching films before I could eat. Films about Hydra. They said I had to relearn everything I had forgotten. Listening to them talk, telling me my new mission. Their success depended on me. Their words were planted deep in my brain. I had no name. None of them had names. They called me Soldier. I am the Iron Fist of Hydra.

Avengers Compound

Tony allowed his imagination to entertain the concepts behind the cybernetic arm that had made Barnes such a terror. Before he could stop himself, he raised questions about the procedure, the details and pitfalls coming hard and fast on top of each other. Tony encased himself in metal, but what would it be like to have this done as an actual appendage, to have it be a part of you? Was it heavy? Did they plant neural sensors in Barnes' brain? Did that contribute to his instability? How did the memory suppressor work? What did it feel like? Was it heavy? They must have had to go pretty deep into the cortex to mess with memory. That must have caused some kind of permanent damage. He even started to plot everything out in his own head before stopping himself. He couldn't help it, he had a natural fascination for tech of any kind but that wasn't why he was reading this. Still, he looked down at his own hand and flexed it while thinking about his own attempt to deal with unwanted memories. His examination of Hydra inventions had to wait for another day. He returned to the journal, relieved to discover the writer had returned to English.

Siberia

They kept me drugged, restrained, weak because I was ill. They were watching me, always watching me, even when I was alone there were cameras. I fell into darkness and when I surrendered; they let me sleep. Long peaceful dreamless sleep.

Then they would wake me up and it would start again. Every time I had a false memory, they erased it. Electric razors shooting through my brain, wiping out the dreams. Their words… the magic words made me focus. Brought me to the present. Reminded me of who I really am. Why I existed. The day came when I no longer resisted. I knew who I was and why I was here. They let me eat; they let me out of the restraints, they stopped the drugs. My health began to improve.

They trained me, showing me different ways to fight with my new arm, how to use their weapons. How to conceal myself, to blend into the scenery, to run away. I learned different languages, everything they needed me to do and then they sent me out. I don't remember where I went or what I did that first time but they were happy when I returned. They said "Good job, soldier,' and let me sleep.

Tomorrow I may not remember this. Tomorrow it might make no sense. That's why I'm doing this.

There was a man named Sargent James Buchanan Barnes. Serial number 32557308. He looked like me. He was born in New York City in 1917 and grew up in Brooklyn with Steve Rogers. I remember Brooklyn, I remember Steve but it's not real. It's a dream. A very real dream. We fought together in WWII, destroying Hydra bases until I fell from the train while on a mission. I was found by the agents of Hydra and became their Winter Soldier.

But it wasn't me. I was on a mission for Hydra when I fell, hitting my head which caused amnesia, but they found me, brought me home.


	4. Chapter 4

Avengers Compound

Tony's fingers drummed on the table. He knew what Rhodey was attempting to do but he couldn't spend hours trying to decipher this mess. He flipped a page, holding his phone over it. The familiar faint whirring sound started up, waiting for a command.

"Friday, scan these documents and tell me if it makes sense at any point," he said as he continued to flip through the notebooks, holding his phone over each page long enough to upload the image. It took several minutes.

'Making sense is a subjective assessment. The writings appear to be a random stream of consciences entries. They are not dated. There is no logical order." The computer sounded testy. Apparently, Barnes' erratic writing style offended her sensibilities.

"Can you translate this into English and put them in some kind of coherent something that a sane human being could understand?" Tony asked.

"You are speaking of yourself?" The computer asked in return.

"Of course I speaking of myself. I'm the only one here!" Why did he think it was a good idea to give her such a sassy tone? The next few minutes comprised him staring at the journal pages being re-arranged and sorted in the space in front of him.

"Text downloaded now. It's the best I could do." The gold letters disappeared into his phone. He settled down, forcing himself to put aside his personal feelings for a few moments. He hated to admit it but he was being pulled into Barnes' narrative. It was becoming a damn interesting story.

Washington DC

I filter through the dreams and see two awkward kids. The early ones, the ones that have stayed with me the longest, He, My Target, Steve is small, sickly but not accepting it. He was so tough. He should not have lasted as long as he did. He never gave in. Always a fighter and always doing the right thing. It could get annoying but it was fun hanging out with him. I don't remember when it changed when the man who looked like me grew taller, they both noticed but they never said anything.

He would never admit it but he needs me. I have to look out for him. It's sort of…my job. He will not back down from a fight. No matter how much stronger the other guy is he just won't move and then he gets mad at me for helping him out. He's always telling me "I had him on the ropes' even when he's sporting a black eye and has blood all over his face.

Times were hard but we didn't notice. Outside of school we wandered through the streets of Brooklyn, trips to Coney Island, the beach…the movies. It was great…and it was yesterday.

Things are blending. I can't tell which one is real. For the first time in a long time, I'm scared.

It's like it just happened. It did just happen. It's a dream. Some dreams seem real. This is a false memory planted by someone for reasons I don't understand to convince me that I grew up with my Target, with Steve Rogers but this time, the dreams are different. I don't just remember my Target, his name, our supposed childhood together. I remember feelings. There is a small part of me that wants this to be true.

Avengers Compound

"Well Steve hasn't changed much," Tony mused out loud to no one. "Still stubborn as hell."

"Repeat that please?" The computer had to pick this time to be nice.

Tony turned off his phone, his eyes staring off into the distance, reflecting on what he had just read. His own memory went back to when he first met Rhodey. Rhodey who was always there to pick up the pieces Tony always left scattered around and no matter where he went, Rhodey was ready to force him to pull back because he had gotten in over his head. He could see it as if it were yesterday when he was wandering alone in the hot sands, the sounds of the helicopter and Rhodey walking out to greet him. The relief and gratitude he felt... What if all that was just wiped away? Tony shook himself out of his reverie, refusing to let sentiment crowd his brain. Not now…

Washington DC

I read what I just wrote. He is becoming less and less my Target and more and more Steve Rogers. I am becoming Bucky Barnes. I fight this, something in me is repelled by the idea. I feel like I'm balancing myself on a fence, on the one side is the life I know is true, on the other a weird place of scattered images and feelings I don't understand. At any time, any small thing will push me off from one side to the other. If at any moment one of my handlers showed up and spoke the words, I would focus, do what was ordered but I also know if My target, Steve, were to say what he said to me on the helicarrier my mind would snap, I would disobey orders and follow him anywhere. The only way I can solve this mystery is to jump into the dark side, to the place of mystery and pretend that I am Bucky Barnes, best friend of Steve Rogers, Captain America and treat these bad dreams as real.

Before I can do that, I need to leave. I've been here too long, I was only waiting for my arm to heal, a man with a busted arm is easy to spot. The man they called The Falcon is looking for me. I saw him on one of the security monitors. because I tried to kill him. How many others are out there, people who lost people, people wounded in the crossfire, former Agents of Hydra? I don't want to be found and they will not find me. From here I will go to New York City. I've been there before, many times but not like this, not like I am now. The place where Bucky Barnes, the man I am pretending to be, grew up, and if there are answers, I will find them there.

Taking the money, packing what I needed, I took the midnight bus from China Town in D.C. It was a risk but there was no one to stop me. This way out of town was not covered, those that believe I exist think I left town a long time ago. They think I'm in Europe. Those that do not are busy trying to flush out former known operatives. I am a low priority. No one paid any attention to me as I sat on the top level in the back. That was a mistake, the street lights are right at eye level and make it hard to sleep but I did my best. The trip took five hours. I had to go to New York. That's where he lived, my alter ego. I might find answers there, something that will spark in my brain.

New York

Manhattan. I have been here before after it all changed. Blending in with the tourists until I found the safe house. In Queens. No one was there but there was food and more money. For several days I did nothing but watch the news. We left a mess in DC, everyone knew everything we had done.

Everything he had done. Sometimes it's still like a dream. I don't know what is real or what's unreal. I still don't know if it's him or me, or if I am someone else entirely. There's no straight line from here to there.

I woke up one night, screaming, in a hot sweat. I don't know why I thought they had found me. It wasn't until I calmed down and realized I was safe that I didn't know who it was I was afraid of. The authorities? The families of my victims? Hydra agents who had escaped? The Falcon? There were no near neighbors to call the police, there was no one. I am alone.

They found the safe house in D.C. It's good I left when I did and I knew enough to wipe away any trace of myself. I saw him, the Falcon standing in the crowd. He looked right at the camera, I imagined I could read his mind. 'I'm coming for you.'

Why do I dream of nothing else? Why no memories of the past life the agents told me I lived as Hydra Agent before I fell from the train, where I lost my arm. They told me I was working for them but no memories of anything surface. It has been several weeks since my last treatment in the memory suppressor. If there was anything real about a life with them before I lost my memory, it would surface now. The only thing I see is Bucky Barnes as a kid, with Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes in Uniform, I search my mind looking for a shred of that life and there is nothing.

Six weeks since my last time in the suppressor. Six weeks of swirling images. Six weeks of me pushing back because I was afraid. In one moment, swifter than a heartbeat, everything snapped together, a perfect whole. I saw my former life in an almost unbroken line, there were empty patches here and there but almost everything came back around.

It was a bright day, I remember birds, sunshine. Music playing somewhere, the day I realized why I had no Hydra memories- because they did not exist. That life did not exist, I had no life with them before I fell from the train. No more pretending, no more pushing back, these dreams were not dreams. They were memories. My own mind knew who I was and was trying to reset itself.

They weren't helping me, they were torturing me, and convincing me it was kindness. I became angry, angry at them for deceiving me and angry at myself for believing them. I trashed a room. Threw the furniture and punched a hole in the wall. I would have continued on in my rampage but looking out the window just then, I saw two kids wandering down the street. A skinny dark-haired guy, his voice high pitched and excited, his chunky brown-skinned friend laughing at his words…with the sound of their voices something came to surface. I started crying…I haven't cried since…since…I don't remember.

I was back with Steve in Brooklyn, just living life. I want to go back there, to the time where I belonged and live the life I was supposed to live, with Steve. No war, just him and me in Brooklyn…then I remember how sick Steve was. He might not have lived a normal life. He might have died young if it hadn't been for the serum. Despite everything Hydra took from me, it's because of them I'm still alive but there's a part of me that would give it all up if I could have just lived that life. I want it back. If I could go back there, I would.

I love you, Steve. Yes, my target, the man they sent me to kill, the only one who could stop my mission with a few words. That's why his words broke through the wall they had placed around my memories. He loved me.

No one ever grieved for a lost loved one the way I grieved for my lost life. For days it went on, I could not eat or sleep. Memories came harsh and fast, all the memories, everything that I had done. What did they do to me? Even worse the question...What have I done?

There was peace when I discovered who I really was but I couldn't sit back and enjoy memories of an innocent boyhood or the heroics of a just war. Other memories came back, clearer than ever. A blackness descended on my soul. There is no escape. This is a story that no one would believe, so I have to write it down.

I made the mistake of visiting the old neighborhood thinking it might help. It didn't. It's different, I almost got lost. I felt so out of place…I remember Steve getting in a fight, I remember volunteering to go to war, talking him into going to the Stark Expo with him. It was a memorable day for me, it's stuck there in my mind. It was right before I shipped out. I remember Howard Stark. He impressed me, but then that clear memory cuts itself short, one of those missing pieces that's lost in the fog of time.

That life, I want it back.

Avengers Compound

Tony shut his phone off. Taking a deep breath he got up and walked to the other side of the room and punched the wall. Hard. Pain shot through his knuckles.

"Damn it," he said to himself. Pulling his hand back he looked down at it. Scrapes across his hand became to spurt small fountains of blood. Why was he always so impulsive? He couldn't just think things through. He always had to act, sometimes without thinking, and it didn't matter how many times things had gone wrong in the past.

"Do you require assistance?" The computer asked.

"Shut up!" Tony walked out to the training compound and found the first aid station. Opening a small medkit he staunched the blood flow and bandaged himself. He started walking through the building with no destination in mind, ending up at the large windows that overlooked the green fields of the compound.

"Breath," he said to himself. Rhodey couldn't have known that was in there. It must have been at one of the early Expos. Barnes was there in the crowd, wearing a uniform. Could this scenario get any worse? There was no way in hell…Who to blame? There must be someone to blame!

But if he didn't go through with this he would be right back where he started and by now he had was in too deep. He had to see this through...wandering back through the halls he returned to his office where he turned his phone back on and forced himself to read the ramblings of a confused man who could barely distinguish his past from his present.


	5. Chapter 5

I remember the war. The young man in uniform I was always seeing. That was me. I remember what it felt like, it's what we did. What dad did. Our family served. I remember being scared, not wanting to go, but I had to. So much of it is a blur... the way I see things is not in any kind of order, the memories just show up.

This, I remember this. I can see it now, it has to be real.

We had completed a mission and were safe behind friendly lines. We camped out in the woods somewhere. I don't know who had the alcohol, but it came out and we all drank, except Steve. He told us that one disadvantage of the super serum was he couldn't get drunk so he just sat there and watched while we indulged. We were about an hour into our celebration when I realized nothing was happening. No buzz, my senses were clear, things should have fogged up by then. I said nothing; I sat there, pretending while watching everyone around me become someone else. Happy Sawyer was a sad drunk, he started crying, telling Steve how much he appreciated him. He really turned on the waterworks, sniffling into his handkerchief and bringing down the mood of the camp. I could tell it was embarrassing for Steve. They had told me that I was a 'happy affectionate' drunk so as a cover I remember putting my arm around Steve and kissing him on the cheek, pretending to be tipsy, joking about how we loved him. It's something that happened before, back when we were kids, sneaking beers. He laughed, everyone laughed, and it calmed Happy down. I spent the rest of the night giggling in my drink and telling everyone that Steve was MY best friend, they couldn't have him.

The next morning I at least expected to have a sore head but nothing. I pretended.

The next time was when I fell from a tree. I was supposed to be scouting out a position. One slight slip and down I came. There were some cuts and bruises but I should have at least broken an ankle, but I walked away. Time and time again that happened. Once I had to run between positions and I didn't realize my speed had increased. Pinky asked me how I got there so fast. I didn't realize I had, so I made up some crap about a shortcut.

When Steve rescued me, when we were first taken prisoner, they were experimenting on me. I never knew what they were doing, all I know is I was the only one who survived. They must have pumped something into me, a serum, like the stuff they gave Steve. It had done something to me, made me faster, stronger, my wounds healed faster. I remember not long before I had told Steve that 'I am turning into you'. Now it was true, we were the same.

I should have told Steve as soon as I suspected but I didn't. Why? Because he, being who he was, would feel obligated to tell his superiors. I knew they would take me away from the Howling Commandoes, stick me in a hospital, poke and prod at me, run tests and treat me like a sick person while my buddies were out doing the real work. They might even split us up, give me my own unit, something I didn't want. I wanted to stay right where I was, and it was a selfish deadly choice. If I had spoken up, if they had taken me away from the front lines, things would have been different. People would be alive now, lives would go on... I convinced myself that I was doing it for Steve. I mean, he was the special guy now, and he deserved it. He didn't need me stealing his thunder, he should have the spotlight so I would just stay in the shadows. I would stay invisible. I actually did a good job of lying to myself that it was all about him when in truth, it was just about me.

I know why I am remembering this, now. If I had been in my right mind and not injured and stricken with amnesia, I would have figured it out.

They were looking for me. They had orders that if they raided our bases to take me alive because they wanted me back. It wasn't by chance the soldiers found me in the woods, they were going after the train but they were delayed by the weather. I fell out of the sky for them like a Christmas present. It's not your fault Steve, I should have told you. A lesson to whoever might read this. Always, always trust your friends.

Avengers Compound

Steve would have kept your secret. He would have done anything for you. He defied one hundred and seventeen countries for you and never abandoned you, even after you tried to kill him. Why...

Tony had no sooner asked himself the question when the answer came hard and fast from nowhere. Ultron. I kept to myself for a reason. I saw the other side, I know what's up there. There is no way they could realize how that affected me. They wouldn't understand, they would try to stop me. But even if there was no way for them to understand what I went through, I still could have told them what I was doing. Steve could have told me about you... Tony was conscious of the fact that he was speaking to the absent Barnes in the first person. He was now a human being.

"It wasn't your fault Hydra did what they did to you," Tony said out loud. He waited for Friday to respond but the computer said nothing, leaving Tony to contemplate his personal revelations in silence.

New York

-It was a long clear shot, I was high on a building. I could see him, it was easy. One pop and he was on the street bleeding out and I was gone long before they found my position. I don't know who he was or why they needed him dead. Did he have a family? I'm sorry about the guy in the hall but he saw me. I was under orders. No witnesses. Who was he? Did he matter to someone? I want to know because I should know. I should face it but there's a part of me that wants to keep it buried forever. There's a dread in knowing it will come back, and it will hurt. Sometimes it's him that did all that shit, sometimes, it's me. It's hard to untangle the two.

-The woman was in a parking lot, late at night. I remember she had blonde hair, tied up. She was wearing a lab coat. I think she was a scientist, I don't know. All I know is she was against us. I stopped her. The only trace he left were the bullets.

-There are so many. They crowd in, they wake me up in the night. I see them standing over my bed... I would start drinking but it does no good. Oh God, the innocent people who just happened to be there... I shot them all. Once they gave me the task of stabbing one of our own who had been with us from the beginning. Not exactly a friend of mine, but a familiar face. He was their friend, but he was a spy and none of them wanted to do it so they gave the job to me. His face, he turned to speak to me, the look on his face, the pain, the surprise, I knew him... it hurt. I had to spend extra time in the suppressor for that. It made me angry, so they put me to sleep...

Avengers Compound

Tony was feeling uncomfortable. Barnes transformed from a monster a tortured soul. Should he be reading this man's private confessions? He pushed his phone to the side and rubbed his face to wipe away everything he had just read. Rhodey knew this would happen, that this would humanize him. Taking a deep breath he got up and did a slow walk around the room, slowly exhaling. He didn't want to feel sorry for him, he didn't want to have his views turned upside down but that was what was happening. Sitting back down, he opened one of the journals so he could look at the hard copy, turning the notebook around and around, reading the bits of information Barnes had squeezed into the margins. Every one of them was a description of a different mission. Everyone was a success. There were no names, just descriptions. Tony realized that he might stumble across the account of his mom and dad which would trigger his own pain. Closing his eyes he could see the images that would be forever ingrained in his brain but... answers dammit. What was going on inside Barnes' head when he did what he did?

His need for answer overrode his need for discretion. These were extraordinary circumstances. It may be wrong to keep reading but he had to know.

New York

This was my life. My home was with them. They were my comrades. They spoke to me of the greatness of my mission, my importance to the cause that no one could do what I could do. They took care of me, damn it. What would I be without them?

They taught me, they trained me and I trained others. Men and women, some women were tiny, barely more than girls but they became lethal.

They taught me to fly. They kept me informed about the world outside our base, how things were changing. Every time I woke up, something was new. I had to unlearn things. Old customs were falling by the wayside, new technologies, new weapons, space travel,… satellites... computer all the while they kept whispering Hydra propaganda at me, always testing my loyalty and always erasing those 'false memories' that insisted on popping up.

I planted a bomb inside a building in Paris. I wasn't there when it went off.

I'd been in New York too long. I had money, and the people Hydra used to work with asked no questions. It was a risk, but they knew who I was and that at one time I would murder them in their sleep. They weren't used to me the way I am now, but I didn't let them see the real me. I have no desire to kill anyone ever again. I bluffed and bullied my way across the Atlantic. The dreams and memories followed me.

I had no choice. It was my best opportunity. He was in his own yard, with his wife and children. I shot him... and turned around and didn't look back. I saw his face last night and the faces of his children. Sometimes I cover my face, sometimes I hit the air and scream at them that I'm sorry but they don't go away. They just stare at me... the same way I stared at them when I killed them.

I saw him. Steve with Falcon, Sam Wilson, in London. It made something inside hurt, I know why he's doing this. He loves me. He wants to save me. He thinks his friend Bucky is hiding somewhere inside me but there are other things buried deep in there as well. Things I don't want him to see. I wish we could go back to where we belonged. Not here… I can't let him find me. I went back to my room to pack my stuff, but before I left, I sat on the floor and cried. I screamed. I threw things and left the place a mess. Maybe if he comes here, he'll think I'm still dangerous and leave me alone.

I have a deep-seated fear that they will find me again, speak the words and tell me to finish my final mission, to kill Steve. I can't take that chance. Part of me wants to be with him, but because I love him, I have to stay away.

From safe house to safe house I made my way to Europe until I came to Romania. The end of the line. He- no, can't pretend he's some other guy that has nothing to do with me- I never came here. No one knows me, I can blend in. I can be safe for a while and after it's all out, after I've gotten all this down after I remember everything… I'll turn myself in. I don't know what they'll do to me, but I have to do this before Steve finds me. I have to stay away from him… I need to keep him safe and after knowing that he knows what I am and what I've done, I can't look him in the eye. I hope he's given up on me. I'm not worth saving.


	6. Chapter 6

Romania

I saw him on the news. The way he is now, the things he's doing. He was always a hero. I watched him and his new friends save the world. I was amazed by what happened but not surprised by Steve's actions. Sometimes I'm afraid he'll slip away again, out of my mind and he'll be gone forever. He has new friends now, a different life. He doesn't need me. Part of me hopes he stops looking for me and another part is waiting, waiting for him to find me again. I'm lonely…but he is safe.

He's friends with Tony Stark. A faint memory surfaces but it's painful. Harsh blinding pain. It's gone. I couldn't have known him, he's too young. He was never my target...but this hurt is different. Something doesn't want me to think about him. I bury something deep, it's not floating to the surface like the other memories, and it seems weighed down by something. There's a barrier there…they must not have wanted me to think about this.

I never knew their names. They were always Agent this or Agent that, usually numbers, not names. They would wake me up and over time I started to notice they were different. I had gone to sleep, remembering them looking a certain way and when I woke up, they had changed. Some of them were older. The day came when I woke up and they were all new people and I asked about the ones I knew...the ones who had found me. They said they were gone. When I asked where they were, they looked uncomfortable. While on a mission I saw a newspaper, saw the date. I realized I wasn't just sleeping, years were passing by but then, I was unaffected by the revelation. They were getting older, dying, being replaced while I never changed. I never really knew them at all. They were just faces that came and went while I slept. As time went on, my handlers became less and less friendly, less reassuring. The time for their constant reminders about my memories had long past. It reached a point where I didn't know them, and they didn't know me and I just learned to live with the dreams, the way someone learns to live with chronic pain. It made no difference. I existed while the world went on without me.

I wasn't sleeping. I was frozen, like a carcass of meat. I imagine I was a curiosity to them, I can see the recruits staring up at me, some of them probably came and went without ever seeing me awake and I never knew them, but they probably got used to me, eventually passing by me without a glance or a thought. I was no more important than a random firearm in a weapons locker. Something to hold in reserve for the tough jobs they didn't want to do. They convinced me it was a reward, and I accepted it. Years of my life, gone.

It's hard, painful when you realize everything you have ever been told is a lie. When people you trusted used you. They stole my life. How could I be such a damn fool? Why didn't I resist, why did I just give in, why did I believe them? Anyone else, Steve, would have fought back but I allowed them to do what they wanted with me, like a mindless sheep. Maybe there was a part of me, deep down that liked it. Maybe they found that dark place in my soul and exploited it while I was vulnerable.

Tony Stark. It woke me up in the middle of the night, a terrible dream. Tony Stark, the name, triggered it all in my head. It was the mission when things started to go wrong. It hurts, but I know this has nothing to do with programming and brainwashing. They didn't bury this. I did. My real mind is trying to protect me from emotional trauma, doing its best to black it out.

This is when I started to malfunction. Before this mission, everything was routine. They would wake me up, send me on my mission and I would return. If there was nothing else for me to do, they sent me back to sleep. Except for having to erase the false memories and dreams that always plagued me, this went on for most of my time with them.

This time, waking up was no different. I was given a mission, and the words while they wiped my mind. I didn't question. I set out to extract some material and leave no witnesses and shoot the surveillance camera. The material was in a car, I crashed it. It would have been easier if they had died in the wreck but they survived. The driver crawled out of the car and saw me. He looked right at me and there was a spark of something in my head. He called me Sergeant Barnes. Barnes. The name sounded familiar. I finished the job, taking care of him and the passenger and returned home. This was an easy mission. This time, they had more for me to do so sleep was delayed. They had collected the footage from the camera and watched it, over and over, sometimes with me in the room.

'Sergeant Barnes' caused something to pop inside me. The flashbacks started again, this time starting with Steve finding me after I was taken prisoner. I was lying on a bed, and repeating "Sergeant James Barnes, Serial Number…"

It was Steve, no longer the skinny kid but a different Steve. Steve the way he is now. He brought me out of there and introduced me to his new friends and one of them…was Howard Stark. I remembered seeing him at the exhibition. I knew him, he helped save me…he knew me and I killed him. They wiped my mind and but this time, it came back. Their programming was breaking down.

The material I extracted was a serum, which they gave to their kill squad, thinking they could make more like me. They allowed me in the cage with them, to test their strength and they beat me. They were unstable, maniacal. I escaped with my handler but they beat the doctors and guards to death. We could not use them. We gassed their quarters and removed them to their tubes, letting them sleep. Sometimes I envied them.

They told me I had done a great service because SHIELD would have used this serum on their people and unleashed a horror on the world but because I had done what I did, I averted a great catastrophe. I might have saved the world. It didn't help. Nothing worked. There was guilt, this time and remorse. I knew him. There was no reason for me to have killed them. They were in no state to identify me. I could have let them live...The memories suppression was temporary this time. The flashbacks came fast and furious to where I could not function. I saw this man, he was young, and with Steve...he knew me. He helped save my life, and I killed him. The procedures became more intense and more frequent. They delayed sleep because they were under orders to 'fix' this. They wiped my mind so much that any personality, anything that was me at all was being drained away. They did this on purpose.

Now, looking back I know what they were trying to do. It was an experiment to see how I would perform if they sent me to kill someone I knew...if their programming would hold. I completed the mission but it didn't hold. What they did afterward was to make sure it never broke again.

I was so far gone when they put me to sleep they probably questioned if they should bother to ever wake me up again and I stayed that way for a long time…when I woke up, I wasn't even a shadow of my former self. I look back at him, in my memories and I don't recognize him. That was not me.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony took off his glasses and sat back in his chair. There it was. That answered why. He was tortured by his own memories. He thought this part would enrage him all over again but a flood of overwhelming sadness washed through him which turned to anger but this time; it was not directed toward Barnes.

What was his father doing dabbling in that crap? What would have happened if he had reached his destination? Who would have received the serum? Any recipient would have been unstable and more of a danger than Barnes. Would S.H.I.E.L.D. have been able to contain the threat they would have created? Would something even more horrible have happened? Why did dad pick that time to drop that stuff off? He must have known it would be dangerous and why on earth had he done it with his mother in the car with him? Couldn't he have done that on his own, take more precautions? Why did he put her in danger like that? Why no guard? What the hell were you trying to do? Your own hubris was your downfall.

After several minutes of useless questioning, Tony realized how easy it was for his father to do this again, even after having been gone for all these years. He didn't want to face a possible hard truth. What if, even if they had all those extra years, things would have just continued on as they were? He imagined his father living to old age but with nothing ever being resolved between them.

Something moved in the corner of the room. Vision had floated through the wall looking as surprised as a Mind Stone controlled life form could.

"I'm sorry Mr. Stark. I was unaware that you were here. I was just allowing myself a little change of scenery by taking a turnabout the compound. I'll leave…"

"No, it's all right. Stay. I need a break from… this." He said indicating his phone. With a flick of the wrist, he threw the words up in mid-air, the gold text sparkling in the artificial light. Visions' eyes scanned them instantly as Tony knew they would.

'Interesting." He floated downward until he was standing on the floor.

"Damn him!" Tony said, banging his fist on the table. "Once again the guy with the moral high ground saved me from myself. It just wasn't about revenge. I wanted to kill Barnes, kill him right in front of Steve. Make it hurt. I wanted him to watch someone he loved die right in front of him. I wanted him to know how it felt… and after I had done the deed, I would have found out about all this and have just one more thing to feel guilty about."

"Perhaps you should thank Captain Rogers," Vision said a bit tentatively.

"You know we were in this room together, in Berlin," Tony went on as if he hadn't heard. "Just the two of us and we even talked about my father. And he said NOTHING. Barnes was confined, he couldn't hurt anyone, no one could hurt him and still, Rogers said NOTHING. He said it was to protect me, then he said it was to protect himself…"

"Perhaps he was waiting for the right time, but as we know, there is no right time for such things." Vison cocked his head slightly, staring past Tony deep in concentration.

"I don't understand why he couldn't just…"

Vison's eyes returned to Tony. "Maybe he imagined, that if he told you, it would force him to choose between you."

Tony suppressed the urge to allow his mouth to run rampant, as it always did but Vision's quiet argument silenced his rebuttal.

"Steve Rogers is a man who had everything he ever knew taken away and when he found this link to his past, this old friend, it's understandable that he would try to help him but, he and you have served together, endured much together and he would hesitate to turn his back on you. It's not in his nature. So he keeps quiet, to protect Barnes and hope you would understand and in doing so, delayed the inevitable. He could not imagine things would play out as it did. I think he knows now it was the wrong choice, he should have trusted you and he regrets what he did."

"Mr. Perfect has joined the rest of the human race and made a mistake," Tony said more to himself than to Vision.

"Yes. And as he saved you from doing something you would regret, forgiveness might be in order."

Tony exhaled. "I don't know. Not yet. I'm not ready, not yet. Maybe someday. I don't think I can ever be in the same room with Barnes…"

"That's understandable. If this is anything to go by, Mr. Barnes himself, when he is in his right mind, would understand. He probably would not wish to be in the same room as you either, but for different reasons and not out of fear."

Tony wished Vision would stop making sense. "I hate you sometimes."

Vision inclined his head and allowed a small smile to escape. "I know." With those words, he floated out of the room.


	8. Chapter 8

Romania

Years had passed, I don't know how many when they woke me up again. They were strangers. They wiped my mind again, the energy that shot through my brain was different, extra painful, and more intense. I had a new mission.

I remember a fleeting admiration for the man when he escaped my first attempt. That rarely happened. He was my last successful designated target. Whoever you were, Nick Fury, I'm sorry.

He followed me. Steve. He kept up with me, throwing his shield at me, I caught it and threw it back. There was a whispering in my head would not stop but I pushed past it. Small bits of memory tangled around my mission parameters. Something would remind me of something and then it would be gone, replaced hard and fast by something else. Looking back, I think spending so much time in the suppressor it did something to my mental filters. Ideas were crossing over from one side to the other, the only thing that stayed true, that was clear, was my mission. I held onto it because it was the only constant real thing in my life.

Then they sent me out again, for him. They must have known it was risky, after what happened before but they must have thought my mind was gone. My body was a robot, acting on muscle memory but I didn't tell them my mind was alive, filled with constant noise and images that I tried to ignore while concentrating on my mission. I don't know what they would do if I told them, probably wipe me again over and over like before…

Maybe I was a last resort or maybe they miscalculated. Maybe they didn't read the reports from the earlier missions. All know is it happened again. He spoke my name and flashbacks clouded over everything. This time my memories didn't hold back. Something about him broke through the wall, hard. I knew him… I didn't only know him, but he meant something to me. I felt the hurt all over again. They wiped him away and sent me to kill someone I loved. Steve, I'm sorry. Sorry I hurt you, sorry for everything. I almost killed you. My constant nightmare, my biggest fear. I see myself pointing guns at you, trying to stab you, shooting you… you dying because of me. I wake up screaming.

I told them I knew him. I shouldn't have said anything. The dreams came back, crowding out everything else, so they had to wipe me again. It didn't work. The dreams came back but this time I had to fight them on my own, by my own willpower.

I fought it. I fought it when he said my name, because I was supposed to fight it, but then he was the one who stopped, throwing down his shield... the only time Steve Rogers ever backed down from a fight. He would let me beat him to death rather than fight me. Even after everything he had seen me do, even after I tried to kill him, he never gave up on me. He loved me that much... and he broke my programming. It didn't hold.

This was to be the 'one last time' before they sent me out. They were planning on coming out of this on top and there would be little use for me anymore. After this mission, they would put me to sleep, forever. After all, they did to me, after everything I did for them I was expendable. By bringing down Hydra Steve saved my life. I couldn't stay with him and put him in danger, I couldn't go back.

Sometimes I wish he were here, at night when the dreams come and my victims come to visit, standing over my bed, staring down at me. He would either slap me or tell me to snap out of it or hold me until it faded. Sometimes I really need him here. I used to look out for him, and now I'm the one who needs him, but I can't risk it, I can't risk hurting him, or bringing him down with me.

Sometimes I feel like I need to be beaten down, punished for everything but I don't know if any punishment would be enough. I know it wasn't me, but nothing can atone for all this.

I am Sergeant James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes, serial number 32557308. Born in New York City in 1917, I grew up in Brooklyn with Steve Rogers. We fought together in WWII, destroying Hydra bases until I fell from a train while on a mission with the Howling Commandoes and was presumed dead. I did not die but was discovered by the agents of Hydra and by means of torture, and brainwashing and Hydra technology became their Winter Soldier. Between missions, they kept me frozen in time at a base in Siberia. I have written all the missions I can remember. I am sorry and regret everything that happened at my hands.

I thought about turning myself in when I could give a full accounting of myself but I think it might be best if I just turn out my own lights. I can't live with all this stuff in my head anymore. Knowing everything I've done, what I've become. I just want it to stop. I'll leave these notebooks here, they can read them and do what they want, maybe keep this from happening to someone else. I don't know how I'll do it, I can't just jump off a building and firearms are hard to get here. Maybe I'll poison myself. I don't know. I love you, Steve, I'm sorry. I don't blame you for not coming back for me, there was no way you could have known or prevented this. I would like to see you again, I would be as nervous as hell, scared even. I don't know what I'd say to you… except I've stopped. Two years and not a single kill. I know who I am now, this guy. Your friend, Bucky. I know my circumstances, I know it wasn't me but that doesn't matter. The people I killed are just as dead. Tell your friend Tony Stark I'm sorry about his parents.

Steve… have a good life. My feelings for you are deeper than words. I love you.

Avengers Compound

Everything shifted into place and it was an awful tragedy, from every angle. That damned serum that left a trail of broken bodies behind it, Hydra using and abusing people, not caring about the pain left behind. The people who programmed Barnes to kill and the victims who now haunted his dreams. Did his own father wake Barnes up in the night, did his mother?

Hydra who robbed him of his parents and Zemo who made him almost destroy himself, they were the true villains. It was as simple as that. It lifted a weight from his heart. He reminded himself that he had ripped Barnes' arm off while in his emotionally comprised blind fury. The metal weapon Hydra created that killed his father and so many others. If Barnes ever felt he needed to be punished, that should be enough. For himself, he was satisfied. It was all the retribution Tony needed.

Tony wanted to share all this with someone, he needed Pepper. She would listen, she would understand, but Pepper wasn't here. He would do something about that as soon as he got his head together. He wiped his eyes and replaced the journals back in the backpack. Someday somehow he would let him know that he knew and hoped that would be enough.


	9. Chapter 9

Tony shut down his phone. He sat there for a long time, processing everything. It was a relief to discover that Barnes meant for his journals to be read so that was erased from his conscience. He must have written those last entries just before Zemo bombed the Accords Assembly before everything went to hell. How did that first meeting with Steve go? Tony wondered. Not the fight, or the escape, but what had happened when they saw each other again after so long? Was Barnes able to look him in the eye?

He started to pace around the room, then made his way back to the large window in the entrance hall where Rhodey was waiting. How did he know to be there?

"So, you finished?" he asked.

"It was, quite a story," Tony said, removing off his glasses. He realized his eyes might be red, and he was sweating. He wiped his forehead.

"You want that drink?" Rhodey asked.

"No, I'm good," Tony replied amused by the sigh of relief on Rhodey's face. "Don't worry. I don't know if knowing would have made a difference, maybe it would have, maybe not, something we'll never know. Steve, damn it... I don't know..."

"Did it help? All this?"

"Yes, it did. Thank you, Rhodey. I don't tell you this often enough, but you're a good friend." Tony kept his eyes focused in the distance. He wasn't good at this sentimental stuff but having come so close to losing Rhodey he needed to get it out there.

"You're right. You don't tell me often enough," Rhodey said. Tony risked a glance at his old friend. Rhodey's smile made the sunlit room a little brighter.

"Don't push it," he said, returning his focus to the view.

"There is one thing you should know. Our intelligence believes that Barnes and Rogers are with T'Challa."

"In Wakanda?"

"Yes. Now, if you just say the word we can try to find out where they went…"

"Would you do for me what Rogers did for Barnes?" Tony asked abruptly.

"Depends on what you'd done, but yeah. Probably. In fact, I think I already have."

"You know I'd do the same."

"I do. Now, do you want me to see about…?"

"No. Leave them be for now." Tony felt overwhelmed by a sudden sense of generosity. If Bucky and Steve Rogers were reconnecting somewhere in a hidden African kingdom, it was hardly his place to tear them apart. He would let them have their moment. Things were still unresolved, and maybe would always be unresolved, perhaps someday he and Steve would patch things up. Rhodey's instincts were right, as always. Sometimes Tony wondered what he would do without him.

He looked out over the fields again, his eyes going toward the sky. All was peaceful here, no clouds. Tony didn't like looking up there. Memories of the things he had seen on the other side would not go away. He expected it to rip open and rain more terror down on the world.

"There's this idea I can't shake, that something's coming that's going push all this to the side. It makes no sense, but I've got… things to do," he said.

"You always do Tony. So… what do you need from me?"

"I need you to constantly look over my shoulder, criticize what I'm doing and tell me to stop being such an idiot."

"Any time Tony, anytime."


	10. Chapter 10

Wakanda

I asked Shuri if I could have a notebook, so I could write down my thoughts. I'd gotten in the habit and it's hard to stop. I expected her to scoff and say something like 'How primitive' because this is a society where you can preserve your thoughts by just saying them out loud but she didn't. To my surprise, T'Challa himself presented me with a blank book with a beautiful cover made of a material I did not recognize, inlaid with intricate colorful details and a pen that glowed blue with carvings up the side. The 'ink' if I can call it that, was gold, making these words seem alive. I told him I was just keeping a journal and he laughed and told me 'memories are precious and should be kept in beautiful places.' He's always saying things like that, so here goes.

I don't know what happened to my old journals. They're probably in Germany. If anyone reads them, then perhaps they will prove to be my 'mitigating' circumstance if I ever have to answer for everything. That doesn't frighten me as much as it used to. In fact, it's a relief to have it out there.

After we left Stark, we met T'Challa outside the base. I remember my first reaction was "Oh Shit!" but he held out his hands and told us in that regal voice that 'I am not here to fight you. I heard Zemo's confessions and I have him…secure inside my plane."

He offered us asylum in Wakanda which we accepted but Steve told him he had something to do first. I knew what it was. He had to make sure Tony could get out of there safely and take care of his friends. Just like he wouldn't abandon me, he wouldn't abandon them.

And he did. They piled on the plane, Sam took one look at me and asked: "What the hell happened to you?" I told them Tony Stark happened to me, but he was justified. Steve told me to save it for later but I was insistent.

"You know good and well that 'later will not happen. It'll get pushed around and shoved aside and it'll never be a 'better time'. Neither one of us will come out of this looking good so you might as well tell them now. I don't want a repeat of what just happened. They're you're friends Steve, they deserve to know." I think they were a little shocked because they had never heard me talk so much and for another, no one talks to Steve like that, except maybe Sam or Stark.

Steve can be stubborn but then, so can I, so hesitant and with help from me, he told the whole sordid story. They were shocked at first, silent for a while but every single one of them thanked us for trusting them enough to tell them, even Sam. That's what they needed. Time to think it over. The time we should have given Stark. We were wrong to deny him that. Maybe someday, I can tell him in person, how it was but if he never wants to lay eyes on me again in this lifetime, that's fine too. It's his call. He's the injured party here. This might sound strange but part of me is glad he blew my arm off. It hurt like hell, but it was part of him, the other guy who lived inside me for so long, that person I want to forget. I won't have that reminder there, memories of how I used it, so maybe I can start over.

Even though I'm in a safe place, it's not over. I still see them, in my sleep. I dream that Hydra has found me, I see the Wakandans dead in the lab. I see my victims...I see myself killing Steve and I wake up, screaming with Steve holding me, telling me that it's all right, I'm safe, They're gone. Sometimes Sam would stand across the room, his arms crossed in front of him, studying me. I expected him to look at me in disdain, to judge me for being weak but there is none of that there. I never thought it possible, but I saw true compassion in his eyes but it goes away as soon as he sees me looking at him. We give each other a hard time but maybe there is the hope we can learn to get along. I mean, Steve picked him as a friend for a reason, I just have to figure out why.

I have been confined once again, isolated, surrounded by 'kind' people and can't help but think how it was before, back at the Hydra base where the agents kept me isolated, using their 'kindness' to further their own ends. It can make a person suspicious and distrustful but the Wakandans need nothing from me. They are doing this because they are good people and I'm grateful. T'Challa is making things easy for me, he won't even let me call him by his title. Shuri is a funny kid, and it's odd to call her that, considering how smart she is. They told me they have an idea of maybe clearing my brain of the programming but it will take a sacrifice on my part. Whatever it is, I'm ready. I trust them. I'll do it. I know I can't go back to being just Bucky Barnes but maybe I'll be a better person on the other side. Maybe my memories from here on out will be beautiful.

Steve. He's here all the time and we have been catching up and remembering. His life after I fell, Peggy, his sacrifice and like me, of being frozen in time, the shock of waking up again. In a way it was worse for him, he didn't have the gradual adjustment to the 'future' that I did. Everything new was piled onto him all at once, some of his stories about his attempts at readjustments are funny. So much like the Steve, I remember. I told him I was out of the loop when it came to popular culture but Shuri was more than happy to fill me in, and so was he. He had a list of things we need to go through, which is something else Steve would do. He told me of his adventures with his new friends. They are lucky to have him and I'm glad he didn't have to go through everything alone.

He went through so much for me, holding onto hope that I could be saved. What we have is deeper than friendship, closer than brotherhood. We are both out of time, but we are together. When I first saw him again, after the bombing I could hardly talk. He found me. After all this time and after everything that had happened…he found me. Sometimes you want something so badly and when it happens, you can't believe it.

I'm living my dream, the one I fought so hard against that deep down, I always knew was true.


End file.
